


Drabble Reposts

by silentdescant



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bloodplay, Dom/sub, Drabble Collection, M/M, Religious Themes & References, Roleplay, Timestamp, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:19:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and ficlets from various memes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble Reposts

[   
_Timestamp meme_   
](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/322838.html)

**for strobelighted,[university AU](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/249357.html), 4 months after that event.**

Frank's been quiet all day, making breakfast and then dumping the dishes into the sink and picking up Mama’s toys and Gerard’s dirty socks. He doesn’t look sad or anything, though, so Gerard lets him be. He takes the stack of essays he still hasn’t graded into the office and settles in for a long day of reading.

Frank comes in after a while with a sandwich, and Gerard realizes it’s been longer than he thought since breakfast. He takes a bite out of the sandwich and kisses Frank’s cheek.

“You okay, babe?”

Frank shrugs. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m gonna go watch TV with Mama. I’ll keep it down, though.” He disappears before Gerard can ask again, and Mama trots after him, tail wagging.

Gerard makes it through a few more boring-as-cardboard essays before giving up and joining Frank in the living room. The television’s playing an infomercial about exercise equipment, and Frank doesn’t look like he’s paying attention. Gerard sits down beside him on the couch and Frank turns off the TV.

“Gee, I wanna ask you something.”

“Sure, anything.”

Frank pulls Mama into his lap and looks down at her, avoiding meeting Gerard’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” he says slowly, “about maybe, uh. Well, I don’t want to embarrass you, and I just thought maybe I should…”

“Frank, you don’t embarrass me,” Gerard cuts in. “What’s going on? Why would you think that?”

“I’m a _bartender_ , Gerard. I dropped out of college. I’m not as smart as you.”

“I don’t care what you are, and you’re plenty smart, Frank. You don’t need a university to tell you that.”

Frank hunches down a little and stares at Mama, rubbing her ears with intense concentration. When he finally speaks, Gerard has to strain to hear him. “I was thinking about maybe going back to school and finishing my degree.”

Gerard’s jaw drops. It takes him a second to wrap his head around the idea. “I don’t want you to do it just for me,” is the first thing that comes out of Gerard’s mouth. It’s true, but he does want Frank to do it. He should’ve said _yes, that’s fantastic, congratulations, I’ll help in any way I can._

Frank finally lifts his head and meets his eyes. He looks nervous, but his gaze doesn’t falter. “It’s not just for you. I, uh, I went to the University the other day and talked to a guy. Your friend, Ray. He told me about the music program there. He said all the classes I did before would probably count, so I won’t have to retake them.”

Gerard beams at Frank and pulls him closer to kiss him soundly. “Frankie, I—”

“I want to do it for me,” Frank interrupts. “I want to finish my degree, and I want to do something I actually like this time.”

Gerard wraps his arms around Frank’s shoulders and holds him tight. He feels Mama squirming between them, but he also feels Frank relaxing under his hands, so he doesn’t move away. He kisses the side of Frank’s head.

“I’m really proud of you, Frankie.”

“So you’ll help me with my paperwork?” Frank mumbles, and Gerard can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I will, idiot.”  


 **for strobelighted,[Guilt](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/311739.html), 1 year later.**

Frank dials Gerard’s number from memory and holds his breath while it rings. Sometimes Gerard still ignores his calls. Today he doesn’t, though, and Frank sighs with relief.

“Can I come over tonight?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” Gerard finally replies. “After four.”

It’s been over six months since Gerard’s had a drink, and he still goes to AA meetings every week. Frank waits around until four o’clock, then goes to pick up coffee and cigarettes for both of them before heading over to Gerard’s apartment.

Sometimes Gerard doesn’t let him stay the night, but Frank always wants to. It’s hard to move at Gerard’s pace, because Gerard’s pace is so fucking _slow_. If Frank had his way, they’d be living together and adopting puppies by now.

Frank does have a spare key, though. He lets himself into Gerard’s building and knocks on Gerard’s door. He doesn’t want to intrude, if Gerard doesn’t want him to stay.

Gerard opens the door and flashes him a smile. Frank hands him the coffee.

“Come in,” Gerard says.

They go into the main room and sit down on the beat-up sofa. Frank digs into the shopping bag.

“I remembered you were out of cigarettes. I bought you a pack.”

Gerard takes them and gives Frank another brief smile. “Thanks.”

Frank wants to kiss him, or maybe tell him a story, something to make that smile last longer than a few seconds, but he doesn’t know how Gerard will react. He doesn’t know if it’s appropriate to ask how the AA meeting went, either.

“I’m gonna go throw away my cup,” he says awkwardly. Gerard’s still sitting on the couch when he comes back.

“Frank, sit down,” Gerard says. He puts his own cup down on the coffee table and waits patiently for Frank to join him. “I need to say something.”

Frank sinks into the sofa and bites his lip nervously. Gerard opens his mouth and doesn’t say anything, and Frank starts counting the seconds.

It takes 46 seconds for Gerard to say, “I forgive you.”

Frank’s breath catches. “You…”

“I’m happier now, with you, than I was before,” Gerard continues softly. “I’m so sorry it took me such a long time to realize that.”

“You really forgive me?” Frank presses his lips together and tries really hard not to start crying.

“I really do, Frankie. I love you.”

Frank throws himself at Gerard, grabbing him into a tight hug, and lets himself cry into Gerard’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Gee, I really am.”

Gerard rubs his back slowly and shakes his head. “No more apologies, Frank. It’s done now. It’s better now.”

It’s incredible how much of a relief it is to hear Gerard’s forgiveness. It’s like Frank can finally breathe again, for real. After nearly six years, he forgot how good it felt not to be so weighed down by guilt. “I love you too.”  


[   
_Prompt meme_   
](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/310830.html)

**for maryangel200, "Frank making soup for Gerard because he's sick. It's disgusting but Gerard loves his tiny boyfriend and doesn't want to hurt his feelings."**

Frank hears Gerard coughing in the living room before he even fully wakes up. He stretches out on the bed, but of course Gerard isn't there. It's his hand sliding over cold sheets that finally makes Frank sit up and roll out of bed.

Gerard's snuggled on the couch with Mama and Sinatra, all three of them wrapped up in multiple blankets, and his eyes are closed, but he's not sleeping. Frank goes over to them and sits down on the floor next to the couch.

"Hey, Gee," he says softly. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Didn't wanna," Gerard says, then coughs loudly into his sleeve, "wake you up."

Frank sympathizes; he's been sick more than a few times and hadn't wanted to inflict his coughing and sneezing on others. He pets Gerard's hair and stifles a yawn. "Why don't I make you some soup, okay? Something to feel good on your throat."

"You're gonna get sick," Gerard moans, burying his face in one of the blankets. "I hope I don't get you sick."

"Whatever," Frank says. "I'll deal. I'll be right back." He pets the dogs on his way to the kitchen.

Frank's the first to admit he's not the best cook in the world, but surely he can manage a simple bowl of soup. They don't have any instant stuff like Ramen; they eat enough of that shit when they're touring, so Gerard refuses to buy any while they're at home.

It takes him about half an hour to cobble together something edible, with tiny, star-shaped noodles and chicken broth and soft veggies. He scoops some of it into a deep bowl and carries it out to Gerard.

The dogs haven't moved, but Gerard's sat up a little bit, propped up on pillows. The TV's on, too, but it's playing an infomercial and Gerard doesn't seem to be paying attention.

"I made you some soup," Frank says hopefully, and Gerard opens his eyes.

Frank sets the bowl aside and helps him sit up all the way, so he won't spill. He tucks one of the blankets around Gerard's shoulders when he shivers, and then snuggles up next to him, digging his toes beneath Gerard's thigh.

Gerard takes a few quick slurps of the soup and stops to cough again. When he can breathe again, he stares down at the bowl, looking like he's going to puke or something.

"Is it good?" Frank asks.

Gerard lifts the spoon and takes another tiny bite. "Yeah, Frankie," he finally chokes out. "It's good."

for runauberginerun, "Bob/Frank; Frank has a thing for Bob's beard, Bob thinks Frank just wants tips to grow one himself (spoiler: Frank really wants into Bob's pants)."

It gets to the point that Bob has to say something. He bats Frank's hands away and mumbles, "What is it with you?"

"What?" Frank asks innocently.

"You keep _touching_ my _face_."

Frank does so now, scratching his fingernails through the stubbly part of Bob's beard on his neck. "I just like it!" Frank shrugs. "Do you have to trim it, or what?"

Bob nods and moves toward the bathroom, to get his razor. Frank, inexplicably, follows him.

"What the fuck?"

"Can I watch?"

Bob considers for a moment. If Frank really wants something, it's usually better just to let him have it, otherwise he gets to be a pain the ass. And really, what harm could he do? "No touching," Bob finally replies, and Frank nods obediently.

He plasters himself to Bob's back so they can both fit in the tiny bathroom, and tries to hook his chin over Bob's shoulder. Bob has to hunch down a little bit so he can see.

Bob starts up his razor, and the room is silent except for the steady buzzing. He trims the hair on his chin and his cheeks, and then he takes the guide off and smooths out some of the scruff on his neck, where it's gotten out of control.

"I'm thinking about growing a beard," Frank murmurs, right in his ear.

"Ha. Yeah, sure," Bob replies.

When he's finished, he clicks off the razor and rubs his hand over the patches of newly smooth skin. It's not the best job he's ever done, but he usually doesn't have a captive audience. Frank reaches up and lets his hand hover over Bob's throat.

"Can I?" he whispers. Bob's a little surprised that Frank is asking first, and a little more surprised that he's so quiet about it.

He says, "Sure," and Frank rubs his fingers through Bob's beard, and then down, all the way to Bob's clavicle, where his fingers dip beneath Bob's shirt. Bob says, "What," and Frank kisses his ear.

He tries again. "What are you doing?"

Frank kisses him again, nibbling a little on Bob's earlobe. He slings one arm over Bob's shoulder and pulls Bob down a bit more, so he can reach better. "I thought it was obvious," Frank murmurs. His entire hand is underneath the collar of Bob's shirt, now.

"Oh," Bob replies. It is kind of obvious. He can't say he really minds.

 **for dancinbutterfly, "Can I have lovingDom!Brian/sub!Gerard please with um *coughs more* begging on Gerard's part and dirty talk on Brian's?"**

Gerard gets a little desperate when they're cooped up in the buses for too long, Brian knows. He comes to expect the middle-of-the-night phone calls from everyone, but especially from Gerard.

Bob tells him about all the stage-gay shenanigans Gerard and Frank get up to, thinking he's being sneaky, and Brian laughs it off; he's not really jealous. It's just for the fans, just to release some of that tension. Gerard always calls him after the shows, anyway.

He waits until he's in his bunk, or alone in the back lounge, too. He always opens with, "Brian, I need--" and then he cuts himself off. Brian waits him out, every time. "Please, Brian," Gerard says softly. "I need you to tell me."

"Tell you what?" Brian teases.

"God, Brian..."

"You can touch yourself," Brian finally says. "But don't take off your pants yet."

Gerard moans when he complies. Brian pictures him on the couch with his knees spread wide, feet firmly planted on the ground, hand down his pants. "Ohgodyes," Gerard sighs.

"You better be quick," Brian murmurs, low and sharp. "What if someone saw you like this, Gee, think about what they would do. What if Ray or Frank came in and saw you with your cock in your hand. What would you say?"

"I'd... I'd say you told me to," Gerard replies in a high, needy voice.

"I bet that'd make you hot, wouldn't it," Brian continues. "Having them watch you. You're such a fucking attention whore, Gerard, it's incredible."

Gerard moans wordlessly and Brian can almost hear the slick sound of skin against skin as he jerks off. He palms himself through his own jeans and debates taking them off. His office door doesn't have a lock, and it doesn't matter that the building's nearly empty. He's sure someone would come in without knocking as soon as he unzips his jeans.

"What are you thinking of, Gee?" he asks.

"You," Gerard answers, in the same breathy tone as always. "Please, Brian, please--"

"Okay," Brian relents. "You can come, do it, Gee. Come for me, let me hear you."

Gerard hisses out a few breaths and then Brian can tell he's coming over his hand, staining his jeans. His grip on the phone slips a little.

When Gerard's sighing, relaxed, muttering half-hearted curses under his breath, Brian tells him to go to bed.

"Thanks, Brian," Gerard whispers.

"Love you," Brian says simply.

"I love you, too."  


 **for morebliss, "a day in the life of MCR on tour", photo prompt.**

Gerard spends the entire day taking pictures. It's their first time in a real hotel, a place with a pool and a bar, and not just a shitty motel next to a truck stop. He wants to document every moment of their day off as real fucking rock stars.

Mikey tells him to stop five times during breakfast alone. It's really more like lunch; Ray's been up for several hours, going over their schedule and set lists, and Frank's even been awake and out of bed for a while too. Gerard just yawns and snaps a photo of Mikey squinting in the bright sun, to annoy him. It makes Frank laugh, and that makes Gerard smile.

He takes one of Frank next, but Frank is too quick for him and he holds his middle finger up in front of his face. Gerard rolls his eyes, calls him an annoying motherfucker, and puts away the camera.

While Gerard's searching for his hoodie in their room, Mikey says, "So, are you gonna make a move or what?"

Gerard straightens up and twists his fists in the thick material. "What?"

"You're completely fucking obvious. We have a hotel. I'll share with Ray tonight."

Gerard almost drops the hoodie. He grabs Mikey's arm as Mikey moves past him to the door. "Mikey, don't tell him, please. I'm sorry I kept taking pictures of you. Please, I'm begging you, don't tell him. I'll look like an idiot."

"I don't care about the stupid camera," Mikey replies. "Just ask him, Gee. He likes you back, y'know."

Most of Gerard pictures from dinner are of Frank. Laughing at Ray's stupid jokes, smoking a cigarette, drinking a beer with his head tilted back, opening his mouth for a bite of food, scrubbing his hand through his orange-red hair and messing up the carefully styled fauxhawk. Mikey gives him a pointed look, which Gerard ignores. He snaps another picture of Frank reaching across the table because he loves the way Frank's shirt stretches across his chest.

Frank asks Gerard to join him for an after-dinner cigarette out by the pool and Gerard agrees immediately. They sit in those puffy lounge chairs right next to each other, and Frank looks up at the clear, dark sky. Gerard lights him a cigarette and Frank murmurs his thanks.

"Can you believe it?" Frank asks softly.

Gerard shakes his head. He can't really believe it. He can't believe they're out of his basement, out of New Jersey, out on tour. "It's pretty amazing," he replies.

"Yeah," Frank agrees. He passes Gerard the cigarette, because Gerard hadn't lit up another one, and Gerard looks over at him as he takes a drag. Frank's watching him, too. He passes it back.

They're interrupted by a bright, blinding camera flash. Frank looks back over his shoulder and Gerard seems Mikey there with his camera. He must have left it at the dinner table. Mikey takes another picture, catches Frank's surprised, annoyed expression.

Gerard wants to tell Mikey to fuck off, but Frank is Mikey's friend too, and that might look a little like he's trying to be alone with Frank. Which he is, but Frank can't know that.

Frank beats him to it, anyway. He flips off the camera again and says, "Mikey, what the fuck? Get the fuck out!"

"I just wanted to tell you that me and Ray are watching a movie in his room, so. You should stay with Gerard."

"Mikey!" Frank whines.

Mikey puts Gerard's camera on the lounge chair's little side table and waves at them over his shoulder as he heads to Ray and Frank's room. Frank doesn't turn back over to look at Gerard, even though Gerard's staring at him.

He thinks he might be able to get away with nudging Frank over and stretching out next to him on the same chair. He starts to think that Frank might even want that. Gerard sits up and takes Frank's cigarette. Frank finally looks up at him. His eyes don't leave Gerard's mouth as Gerard takes a drag and stubs it out on the ground between them.

Gerard gets to his feet, looming over Frank, and Frank just watches him, a bit nervously. Gerard sees his fingers twitch, and he almost feels bad for taking away the cigarette, because Frank looks like he needs something to do with his hands. Gerard bites his lip and climbs onto the chair, throwing one leg over Frank's thighs to straddle him. Frank stares up at him.

"Mikey was serious, right?" Frank asks quietly.

"Yeah," Gerard whispers. "He told me earlier." Gerard leans down and feels Frank's chest rise as he takes a breath.

"You gonna kiss me, then?"

"You want me to?" Gerard asks, because he has to be sure.

"Fuck you, Gerard Way," Frank says.

He wraps his arms around Gerard's neck and pulls him down for a kiss. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and Gerard can smell his hair gel. Gerard holds himself up on his elbows, and bends his wrist to brush his fingers over the stiff wave of Frank's hair, feeling the gel crinkle a little under the pressure. Frank shifts beneath him and hooks his ankle over Gerard's calf.

"Hey, Gee," he says, a little breathlessly, when they break apart for air. "Why don't you show me your room."  


 **for jrho, "Bob/Frank where Frank messes up Bob's back by jumping on him one too many times. Frank makes it up to Bob with his awesome massage skills."**

Frank jumping on Bob's back isn't unusual. Bob just catches him and grumbles a little and carries him around for a while, or if he's feeling pissy, he drops Frank on his ass and Frank knows not to bother him for a while.

Crying out "Oh, Jesus Christ," doesn't fit into either of these categories. Frank slides back down to the ground.

"What?"

"Ow," Bob groans.

"What happened?" Frank asks quickly. "Did I--"

Bob hunches over and rubs his side, but it's obvious that's not where it hurts. "Yeah, Frank, yes, you fucking did."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Frank says frantically, hands fluttering around Bob's shoulders, afraid to touch. "Sit down, or something, I don't know. I didn't mean to!"

"Yeah," Bob sighs. "I know."

He follows Frank onto the bus and obediently stretches out on his stomach on the couch. Frank bounces around him, nervous. "Do you want a drink? Tylenol? Vicodin?"

"I want you to shut up," Bob moans.

"I can help," Frank murmurs. "Let me help. I'll give you a massage. I'm good at it, I promise."

Bob gives him a look like he doesn't trust Frank, which Frank can maybe kind of understand. Frank holds up his right hand and puts his left over his heart. "I swear to god, I'm good at it. I used to give Gerard massages all the time, remember? When he fucked himself up real bad that one time? I swear I won't hurt you."

Bob finally sighs and relents, relaxing down into the cushions. Frank climbs over him and straddles Bob's thighs, so his knee is wedged between Bob's hip and the back of the couch. He asks where it hurts and Bob vaguely describes the area up between his shoulder blades.

Frank grabs the hem of Bob's hoodie and slowly stretches it up until most of his back is exposed. Bob doesn't get shirtless in front of them all that often, and it's always a surprise to see his pale, freckled skin. Frank presses his fingertips on either side of Bob's spine.

"Let me know if it hurts, okay?"

Bob makes a noise that sounds like agreement and flaps his hand, gesturing for Frank to continue. Frank flattens both palms on Bob's back and rolls them slowly, using the heel of his hand to push and hopefully work out some of the knots. Bob sighs deeply and Frank thinks he must be doing something right.

He shifts up a little and turns his hands over to use his knuckles. They're sharp, but Frank figures that's what Bob needs right now. He slowly moves his hands all over Bob's upper back, and then goes back to the smooth slide of his palms, rubbing from Bob's shoulders to the waistband of his cargo pants.

"This would be better if I had lotion or something," Frank whispers. "Do you want me to get some?"

"No," Bob replies softly. "It's fine, just keep... Keep doing that, keep touching me. Feels good."

Frank smiles happily and keeps his hands moving.  


 **for msilverstar, "How about a first-time thing, maybe Jamia thinks that Gerard is gay?"**

It's fun to watch them, when they're on stage. They put on a show like no other band Jamia's seen before. It's energetic and funny and just about as far from misogynistic as she's ever experienced at a rock show. She doesn't really know why, but of course she likes it all the same.

Then, maybe she does start to understand why, when the singer grabs the smaller guitarist and sticks his hand beneath the guy's sweat-damp t-shirt. The guitarist arches his back and leans against the singer--Gerard, maybe? Jamia can't remember their names from their brief introduction--far enough that he would fall over if Gerard wasn't there to hold him up.

He doesn't miss a note as Gerard turns his head and licks up the side of his face between verses, and he just tilts his head to give Gerard more room to suck on his earlobe.

Oh, Jamia thinks, as Gerard moves his hand from under the guy's shirt to around his waist, fingers splaying wide over his stomach. The smaller guy twists back, holding his guitar out of the way so it doesn't hit either of them, and smacks a kiss on Gerard's throat while he's singing, and Gerard doesn't even falter.

They finish their set and Jamia moves close to the low stage. She sees them talking, cleaning up their equipment, hears Gerard call the hyperactive guitarist Frank, and the bassist Mikey. Mikey says something that makes Gerard laugh and look at Frank, and Frank just beams back at him. Jamia had planned to talk to them, introduce herself, but now she's not so sure.

She hangs around while they're packing up, though, cataloging all the times they touch, and how it's always just a little more than strictly friendly. It's finally the other guitarist who notices her and hops off the stage to say hi.

She feels silly, but she keeps glancing at the other boys, and maybe she's just that obvious, because the guy--Ray, he said--just chuckles and says, "They're just messing around. Don't worry about it."  


 **for strobelighted, "Frank/Gerard, fighting zombies."**

Frank paces in front of the window with his ax over his shoulder. There's nothing out there, at least, not that Gerard can tell, but every now and then, he hears Frank growling menacingly anyway.

They've locked themselves in a convenience store, but the place has already been picked over, and there's not a lot of food or bottled water left, or even any useful supplies. Gerard sits on the check-out counter with a pack of cheap lighters in his hand.

"Do you think we could make like, a flame thrower or something? How does that even work?"

"You need something flammable, right?" Frank asks, peering out the window vigilantly. "Doesn't hairspray work?"

Gerard searches the store but doesn't find any hairspray. If they were back on the bus, Mikey would have a ton. He wonders if Mikey's phone still has signal; he could text him about the hairspray. He doesn't have his own phone, though.

"You think they're okay?" he asks Frank in a quiet voice.

"They're on the bus," Frank replies. "They've got _Brian_. They're fine."

"Brian probably knows how to make a flame thrower."

"Probably," Frank agrees. "I guess you didn't find anything?"

Gerard lines up all the aerosol cans he found in the store. The most useless is the can of compressed air, followed closely by WD-40. "You think bug spray would work?"

Frank turns back to the window. "Try it," he says over his shoulder. "And, uh. Might wanna hurry."

Gerard dashes over to him and just barely manages to avoid Frank whacking him with the ax. "Something coming?" He presses himself to Frank's back and looks out the window.

"Over there," Frank whispers, pointing. "They'll be here in a few minutes, I'm guessing."

Gerard scrambles back over to the counter and tries to rig up some kind of flame thrower device. At least they have enough Scotch tape to hold together the world.

"Gerard, they're coming," Frank murmurs. "Gee. Come on."

Gerard tests his contraption and is met with fiery success. He shouts for joy and hears Frank chuckling behind him. Gerard takes his flame thrower over to Frank. They stand side by side and Gerard can feel the hum of panic beneath everything Frank does.

"Gee," he whispers. "They're coming." He stares out the window.

Gerard shifts his weapon to his left hand so he can grab Frank's with his right. He laces their fingers together and squeezes. "We'll be okay. Promise."

"You can't promise," Frank replies softly, but he squeezes Gerard's hand back. He finally looks away from the window and his fingers twitch around the handle of his ax. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah," Gerard says. "I know. I love you, too."

Frank turns his whole body toward Gerard, pressing up against him from shoulder to knee, and kisses him, and Gerard just leans into it because their hands are occupied. He feels the worry and the fear in Frank's kiss, the desperation, and he tries to put whatever confidence he has left into it, for Frank to feel.

Gerard starts to hear the horrifying groaning outside; they're close now. He kisses Frank harder, biting at Frank's soft lips, and feels Frank respond with equal ferocity.

"I fucking love you," Frank gasps when they break apart.

"So fucking much," Gerard finishes.

Frank doesn't let go of Gerard's hand. He pulls him over to the door and kicks it hard, and the lock breaks free of the door frame. The door swings open and the sounds outside get louder.

Frank's holding Gerard's hand so tight Gerard thinks his fingers might be going numb, but he doesn't say anything, because he suspects he's squeezing just as tightly.

Frank gives him a manic, toothy grin and says, "Let's go kill some fucking zombies."  


 **for fleurdeliser, "Frank/Gerard (LOL AS IF IT WOULD BE ANYTHING ELSE) - Frank gets a new tattoo"**

"Oh, man, this'll be so cool!" Frank says excitedly. He's been bouncing around the car for the entire drive, and Gerard's just glad they'll be in the city soon. He has to ask Frank for directions to the tattoo shop, but Frank gets him there with minimum fuss, and they only get lost trying to find a parking spot.

Gerard waits while Frank checks in with the front desk and signs whatever waivers and shit he has to sign, and then the tattoo artist appears. He recognizes Frank and greets him warmly with a tight hug and an affectionate hair-ruffle. Gerard doesn't even have time to get jealous, though, because Frank drags the guy over and says, "This is Gee, this is who drew it."

Gerard blushes and they go through introductions and small talk, and then the guy, Jake, finally notices that Frank's practically vibrating with energy next to them, and he motions for them to come around to the back.

Jake's already seen the drawings, apparently; he just asks where Frank wants it. Frank takes off his shirt--it always surprises Gerard when he does that, how easy it is for him to just _do that_ , be half-naked in front of people--and twists around. Gerard touches a blank spot of soft skin on his left shoulderblade and says, "Here."

Gerard zones out while Frank's actually getting the tattoo done. He doesn't want to look too closely at it, even though it is pretty cool to see his drawing become permanent on Frank's skin. He's drawn it there with pens and markers at home in their bed, taken pictures to show Frank, but this is different. He chats with Jake about how he and Frank designed it, and about the other tattoos Jake's done for Frank, and Frank is suspiciously quiet during the whole procedure.

"Almost done," Jake says. Gerard takes a quick peek and grins. Frank reaches for Gerard's hand and squeezes it tightly.

"How does it look?" he asks quietly. He looks sideways at Gerard, like he's afraid to move too much, even though Jake's not currently touching him with the needle.

"Does it hurt?" Gerard asks instead of answering. Frank already knows it looks good.

"A little," Frank admits.

Gerard squeezes his hand and smiles encouragingly. He leans close to Frank and kisses his cheek. "I'll kiss it better, later," he whispers in Frank's ear.

Frank blushes and gives him a look, the one he does when he thinks Gerard's being sappy. But he just replies, "Counting on it."

Gerard kisses his cheek again and leans back, waiting to see the finished tattoo.  


 **for maryangel200, "Frank/Gerard, picking their Halloween costumes together."**

Besides rock shows and dirty clubs, Halloween shops are some of Frank's favorite places. Halloween was such a big deal for him, growing up, and he used to create costumes out of anything he could find.

He trails his fingers along the rows of hangers with pirate and astronaut and dominatrix costumes, dragging Gerard along by his hand.

"Maybe we could have matching costumes," he says excitedly. "Like a set."

"They're all so stupid, though," Gerard replies, and Frank's face falls. He moves around behind Gerard, so Gerard can't see. "No, no," Gerard then says, catching his wrist. "I mean, they're so cliche! Costume shops never have anything unique for couples."

Frank tugs on Gerard's hand, spinning him around and pressing him up against the rack. He gives Gerard a stern look. "Gee. You put together our Revenge look. You designed our uniforms for Black Parade. Surely you could think of something _unique_."

Gerard makes a face, but Frank can see the spark of inspiration behind his eyes. He squeezes Frank's hand. "We'd probably have to make it ourselves," he warns.

"I've made my own costumes before," Frank assures him. "Is there blood involved? Please tell me yes. I've been wanting to buy some of this." He pulls Gerard over to a display of fake blood, in little capsules and in bottles with squirty tops. Gerard immediately grabs one of the bottles.

"Fuck yes, there's blood involved."

bandomkinkmeme, [this thread](http://community.livejournal.com/bandomkinkmeme/1314.html?thread=17698#t17698)

 **"Frank/Gerard, roleplaying. :DDD Maybe Gerard is the superhero and Frank is the damsel in distress. Maybe Frank is the robot and Gerard is his creator, who's teaching him how to be human. Maybe Frank is the vampire master and Gerard is his supplicant. In any case, they play." [bloodplay, NC-17]**

Frank’s hand curls around the back of Gerard’s neck, startling him. He whirls around, but Frank ducks out of sight, keeping behind Gerard, just out of view. Gerard stills and feels Frank’s breath on the shell of his ear.

“I want to eat you alive,” Frank whispers, and his tongue darts out to touch. Gerard shivers but doesn’t move. Frank’s hand loosens on his neck and he slides it around to Gerard’s throat, dipping low enough to pull the neckline of his t-shirt down a few inches.

Frank’s fingers are cold beneath Gerard’s shirt. Gerard tilts his head down and looks, sees Frank’s arm on his own shoulder, and he tries to work out where exactly Frank is standing behind him. He leans back, just slightly, and feels the heat radiating from Frank’s body.

Frank digs his short fingernails into Gerard’s collarbone and hisses in his ear. “Don’t move.”

He trails his mouth down from Gerard’s ear to the side of his neck, licking and pressing his open lips to Gerard’s skin. He closes his mouth over Gerard’s pulse point and sucks gently. Gerard sighs and exposes his neck more for Frank, and when Frank finally drags himself away with a needy moan, he whispers, “You taste so fucking good.”

“Tell me?” Gerard asks.

Frank licks him again, and lifts his other hand to keep Gerard’s head steady. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of Gerard’s neck and holds him tightly, so he can’t move.

“I can feel your heartbeat on my tongue,” Frank says silkily, sliding wet lips up and down Gerard’s throat. “I can almost taste it already. I can hear how fast your pulse is, how much you want it.”

“I do,” Gerard replies softly, “I want it.”

Frank flattens himself against Gerard’s back and Gerard presses against him. Frank’s chest is bare; Gerard can feel his firm muscles even though his own t-shirt, and he very much wants to be rid of that barrier. Frank wraps both arms around Gerard’s torso and slowly lifts the fabric upward, sliding his hands up along Gerard’s bare stomach as he moves.

“I want you on the bed,” Frank murmurs. “I want to taste every inch of you.”

Frank lets him go and Gerard immediately moves to obey. He loses his jeans on the way, and Frank is right behind him, greedy hands touching and leading him towards the bed. Gerard lies down on his back, finally able to see Frank for the first time. He’s still wearing his jeans, and his shaggy hair is tucked behind his ears. His face looks paler than normal, and Gerard wonders for a second if he’s wearing makeup before letting the thought go and just rolling with it. The lack of color in Frank’s cheeks make his lips look flushed, and there’s black eyeliner darkening his eyes.

He looks confident, too, as he crawls over Gerard and holds himself there, above him. He stares down at Gerard and waits him out, waits until Gerard opens his mouth and sucks in a quick breath. Frank bends down and captures Gerard’s lips in a thorough kiss.

His tongue presses between Gerard’s lips, and Gerard reciprocates. Then he feels the abnormally sharp teeth, and he breaks away to gasp. Gerard shivers and grins up at Frank, but Frank doesn’t return the smile. His calm, cool mask is firmly in place, and Gerard forces the logic out of his brain so he can enjoy this.

Frank kisses him again, sloppier and more insistent, and Gerard opens for him, moaning when Frank’s sharp canines scrape his tongue. Frank licks his way down Gerard’s throat again, pressing kisses to the dip in his clavicle, and then moves over to the junction between Gerard’s neck and shoulder.

His hands are moving slowly down Gerard’s body, and Gerard presses up into the feather-light touches. Frank smoothes his palm over Gerard’s hipbone and holds him still, tongue hot against Gerard’s pulse point again.

He moans against Gerard’s skin and Gerard shivers at the vibration. “I fucking want you,” Frank says, his voice thick with need. He opens his mouth and drags his teeth lightly over Gerard’s throat.

“Yes, yes, please,” Gerard moans in reply. “Take me.”

Frank leans down so their bare chests are pressed together and opens his mouth wide. Gerard feels the sharp points of Frank’s teeth digging into his skin.

“I need it,” Frank says.

“I need you,” Gerard counters.

Frank closes his mouth around the line of muscle to the side of Gerard’s neck, hard enough that Gerard can feel teeth indenting his skin. It’ll leave a mark, he’s sure. He cries out and arches his hips up until he collides with Frank’s body. He nearly knocks Frank off-balance, but Frank just rips his mouth away, growling, and lies flat on top of him, pushing him down against the mattress.

He returns to Gerard’s neck, moving down and forward a bit, and bites again. This time Gerard fights to stay still; his cock is so hard it’s leaking, and Frank’s jeans are rough and not providing the right kind of friction, and Gerard doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Frank grinds his hips down, ignoring the way Gerard twists at the contact, and slides one hand up to the opposite side of Gerard’s neck. His thumb stretches up to press hard just underneath Gerard’s jaw, tilting his head up and keeping him there.

Frank turns his head and finds a new place to bite. Gerard can feel every point of his teeth where they touch his skin, and the longer canines dig in painfully. When Frank bites down, Gerard feels the skin break and split, and Frank draws back with a quick gasp.

There’s a smear of bright blood at the corner of his lips, staining them a darker red, and his eyes are fixed on the cut on Gerard’s neck.

Gerard reaches for Frank and wraps both arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. He licks the blood of Frank’s lips and then pushes his tongue into Frank’s mouth, sharing the coppery tang with him. His shoulder is throbbing with the beginnings of a bruise, and Gerard moans loudly into Frank’s mouth.

Frank eventually breaks the kiss and returns to the mark, dragging his teeth gently around it and finally darting his tongue out to lick up the thin drop of blood. Gerard threads his fingers through Frank’s silky hair and holds him there, and Frank takes the hint. He bites again, bringing up a little more blood from the cut, and smears it around with his lips.

When he pulls back, his lips and teeth are tinged red, and his pupils are blown so wide that Gerard can barely see any of the hazel color of his eyes.

“You’re mine, now,” Frank murmurs. He pokes his tongue out and slides it slowly across his lower lip, and Gerard watches, transfixed. “You’re mine, Gee, you’re so sweet. Taste so sweet.”

Gerard closes his eyes and lifts his hips as much as he can, high enough that his cock slips against Frank’s stomach and the waistband of his jeans. Frank reaches down between them and yanks at the button of his jeans, giving Gerard a distracted kiss on the corner of his jaw. He finally gets them undone and the fabric pushed to his thighs, and then when Gerard ruts up against him, skin meets skin and Frank’s hand wraps around them both.

Frank kisses him fiercely, mashing their lips together and then tugging Gerard’s lower lip with his teeth when they pull apart briefly for air. Gerard can taste the blood on Frank’s lips a little more, now, and he can’t bring himself to open his eyes and see it.

He comes when Frank bites him again. It’s much gentler, and on the opposite shoulder from the previous bites, but Frank times it perfectly with the upstroke of his hand and his body pressing Gerard down onto the bed. Gerard cries out, clenching his fists in Frank’s hair, and his vision whites out for a moment.

He opens his eyes to Frank sitting up, fist tight around his own cock, and tongue running quickly over his abnormally sharp teeth. He’s licking away the traces of Gerard’s blood, and Gerard knows he must be tasting it with every swipe of his tongue. Frank finally comes with a short cry, and he falls forward. Gerard catches him and they kiss again, all lips and tongue, no teeth.

Frank rolls off of him after a moment, and then reaches for Gerard’s hand. He pulls it up between them and kisses the pale underside of Gerard’s wrist, and Gerard can feel his own pulse thudding beneath Frank’s lips.

“Should disinfect that,” Frank murmurs after a moment. “And we need to clean up.”

“I don’t want to move,” Gerard groans.

“Fine, my sweet,” Frank drawls, raising an eyebrow to look like a menacing vampire. “I need to take these out anyway.”

“They’re sexy,” Gerard protests. “Leave them in.”

Frank smiles toothily, ruining the effect of the accent and the makeup, and Gerard grins back when he sees the long canines. There’s still a little bit of blood staining the corner of Frank’s mouth. Gerard pulls him down to lick it away.

“Okay,” he says when he finishes. “Now you can go clean up.”


End file.
